Dorm Mates
by Queenie Mab
Summary: Harry and Draco share a dorm at the MLE University. Harry finds out Draco's biggest secret and it changes his entire outlook on dating.


Harry paced the living area of the small MLE University's dormitory that he shared with his training partner, Draco Malfoy.

Draco had been primping in the bathroom for the past twenty minutes, and it was getting on Harry's nerves. "Oi, Malfoy," he called through the door. "I have a date tonight, and would appreciate a turn in there.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Potter. I'll be out soon."

"Do we have any sobriety potion left in there?" Harry asked through the closed door.

"One phial left, but it's easy to make, go and look up the recipe and I'll make you a batch tonight."

Harry wandered over to their over-crammed bookshelf and found Draco's old copy of Advanced Potion Making. Nostalgia washed over Harry as he remembered the Half-Blood Prince's copy, and he pulled it out for old time's sake to see if it had the recipe he needed.

He opened the book and a folded piece of parchment fell out with his name written on the front. He opened it and read:

Potter, Harry, I don't know exactly how to say this, so I'll just come right out. I think I love you. Wow, it feels good to get that off my chest. I know you don't feel the same way about me or else you wouldn't date every available man that will have you. My heart dies a little every time you come home in the morning after a date. I hate to admit that. In fact I hate you. I hate that you make me feel this way. I feel out of control, like I don't know what to do, and it makes me just want to kill something. I don't plan on ever showing you this letter, which is why I'm being so frank. Stop going out with other guys and give me a chance for Merlin's sake. I'm better looking than all your dates combined and, well, I give a damn. That's all I can say right now. I'm feeling like a damn woman for even writing this. Love, Draco

Harry was struck dumb. He quickly refolded the note and replaced it and the book. He found the right Potions book for Draco, and pulled it out, flipping through the pages for the recipe for Sobriety Potion. He set the book in their small kitchen and resumed his pacing, heart racing in his chest as he thought about what Draco's letter had said. Suddenly, he didn't feel like going out with Seamus that night. He wanted to confront Draco, but then he'd have to admit to seeing the letter that was obviously not meant for him to read.

Draco came out of the bathroom, blond hair perfectly styled, smelling fresh, scented with vanilla, and Harry wondered how he had ever missed how sexy Draco was. "Potter, you look a fright," Draco said, running his hands through Harry's hair, trying to get it to lie flat.

How had he missed the little attentions Draco paid him all the time? The touches on his arm when he wanted attention, the shoulder massages after a long day at Auror training, they all added up to one obvious message... Draco liked him—he cared.

"Did you find the potion recipe?" Draco asked, once he had finished smoothing Harry's hair down.

"Er—yeah," said Harry. "I put the book in the kitchen. I was just thinking of cancelling tonight and staying home."

"Why would you do that?" Draco asked, hands on hips. "Get into that bathroom and shave your face. It is impolite to leave stubble burns in sensitive areas; scram."

Harry went into the bathroom, more confused than ever. Maybe the note had been a joke Draco intended to play on him some time and forgot about. He shrugged and began to shave (with a Muggle blade as it cut closer than a Shaving Charm.) Still, he was left with a niggling doubt in the pit of his stomach that was hard to ignore.

Harry stared out of the window at the Leaky, where he sat opposite Seamus in a booth. He couldn't get the look in Draco's slate-grey eyes out of his head as he had left the dorm. It was a look of pain.

"Oi, Harry. I'm over here," Seamus said, his Irish accent thick, and while Harry normally found it sexy, tonight it was just damn annoying to try to make out what he was saying.

"Yeah," Harry sighed and took a draught from his lager. He looked over to Seamus, noting the confused expression on the sandy-blond-haired man's face. His hair wasn't blond enough, his face was too round, he wasn't Draco, Harry realised, and suddenly he really wanted to be at home.

"Didn't you want a shag? You're not very good company tonight," Seamus said. "Did Malfoy do something horrible to you? I still don't know how you can stand to have to live with that prat. The MLE is downright cruel to have paired the two of you."

"Nah," Harry said, draining his glass. "I'm not in the mood tonight. I'm just gonna go home."

"All right then," Seamus said jovially. "Get some rest on you. You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Right," Harry said, scooting out of the booth. "Later."

He pushed open the back door to the pub where the entrance to Diagon Alley was located and used its Apparation point to get himself back to the dormitory at the Magical Law Enforcement's University.

He gave the password, "Panache," to the doorknocker, and the door swung open.

"Oh no you don't, Potter," Draco's drawling voice came from within. "No bringing your dates home, we agreed."

Harry tentatively stepped inside the small dormitory and closed the door behind him. "It's only me," he said quietly.

Draco looked up from the book he was reading, seated on the sofa like a prince on his throne. He wore a black cashmere jumper over his woollen grey trousers. His pointed face was pale and his hair gleamed golden beneath a hovering enchanted candle. "What happened?" Draco asked looking at Harry in concern. "You don't look right, are you ill?"

"Yeah," Harry said, walking over to where Draco sat. He took the seat beside him, feeling feverish at being so close to Draco, and finally aware of his sensuality. "You're not—going out with anyone, are you?" Harry asked, his voice trembling.

Draco smirked. "No. And you needn't rub it in. I'm trying to redeem my reputation, and have bigger things to focus on than a quick shag. Why are you home early?" he asked, his eyes still filled with pain.

"I couldn't get you out of my head," Harry said, letting the truth come gushing out. "You've been on my mind all evening and I've fancied you for a couple of years but always thought you were out of my league, and—"

"Potter, what makes you think I am in your league?"

"Er—"

Draco shook his head. "The letter, you found it, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Harry answered, green eyes glued to grey. "Why didn't you tell me to my face?"

Draco sighed and set his book on the table beside the sofa. "What difference would it have made?" he asked. "You're so thick in the head, you wouldn't give me the time of day when we moved in here."

"But—"

"Potter, shut it. I don't want to hear your excuses or explanations." He began to rise from the sofa, but Harry caught him by the hand and pulled him back down.

"Kiss me," he said, hoping against hope that Draco would grant him that much.

"You don't know what you're asking," Draco said, calm and collected. "I don't kiss just anybody."

"I don't want to kiss just anybody," Harry said insistently. "I want to kiss you."

Harry drew closer to Draco, their mouths inches apart.

"You're just saying that," Draco said, and the softness of his breath on Harry's lips sent shivers up his spine.

"No, m'not," Harry said, and closed the distance between them, taking Draco's lips with his own.

They moved together as if they were meant for each other, every stroke of the tongue and sucking on flesh was like a dance, one that didn't trip Harry up. Draco took over the kiss, pushing Harry's shoulders back against the sofa, and climbing into his lap until he was straddling him with his thighs.

Harry opened his eyes as he felt Draco's wool-clad erection bump against his stomach, and he looked up into the most intoxicating face he'd ever seen. Draco's pupils were blown, so very little grey was visible around them, his hair was sexily tussled and his lips, red from their bruising kiss.

"Bedroom," Draco commanded, and Harry cast a Lightening Charm upon Draco's body, allowing him to easily rise and carry Draco to his room, while Draco had his legs wrapped around Harry's waist and his lips continued their exploratory movements.

Harry laid Draco upon his bed and the Charm broke, letting gravity draw Draco onto the white duvet. Harry climbed in after him, lying atop his body, kissing him all the while, and feeling up his chest underneath the cashmere jumper. "Top or bottom?" Harry asked, breathlessly, breaking their kiss.

"Don't care as long as it's you," Draco gasped.

"It's me," Harry said, flicking his wand out of the concealed holster he wore on his wrist. He Vanished their clothes, so they tangled together in a mass of naked limbs, grinding against one another with grunts and moans and perspiring flesh.

The next morning, Harry opened his eyes to find himself wrapped up in Draco's arms, feeling sore, but sated. He rested his head on Draco's chest, allowing it to rise and fall with each inhalation and expiration, watching blond lashes flutter upon closed lids.

"Potter," Draco croaked, voice hoarse from sleep. "Stop staring at me while I'm sleeping."

"I can't help it," Harry said, grinning madly. "You're simply too beautiful not to watch."

Draco's eyes snapped open, and he glanced down at Harry. "I am not beautiful, I am dashing," he said, affronted.

"That's what I meant," Harry said, smirking. His face grew solemn.

"What is it?" Draco asked, concerned.

"I don't want this to be it," Harry admitted. "If you'll have me, I'm yours."

"Potter, shut up and kiss me."


End file.
